It was getting late. The apartment grew quiet as everyone retired to their rooms. Bang, Boom, and JiaHao shared the largest bedroom, a strange arrangement given the space, but the third room—the one opposite mine—was currently empty.

I went to take a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the day's nervous energy before entering the bedroom where Renji was likely already asleep.

A dozen questions buzzed persistently in my head, like flies trapped against a window pane. If Renji knew I was coming, and if he genuinely hated my guts—which would be perfectly valid—why did he not object to us being roommates? It made no logical sense. I wondered if he had purposefully wanted this arrangement just so he could visibly ignore me and treat me as coldly as possible. Renji, regardless of his surface nonchalance, was exactly the type of person who would pull such a subtle, yet petty move when he was deeply hurt by someone. Which, again, would have been perfectly valid. But it still sucked.

I knew I had made a catastrophic mistake when I ghosted my best friend. I knew I had to take responsibility for that failure. Yet, it still pained me when Renji glared at me with that cold, emotionless gaze.

What pained me even more was the sudden, tangible reminder of the two years I had spent without him. Just catching his faint, pleasant scent in the room was enough to remind me of the fundamental warmth he had emitted back then.

I still vividly remembered the details: how he always brought ice packs for our aching feet after a long, brutal day of dance practice; how he comforted me when the other trainees tried to pick on me; how he always stood by my side and defended me without hesitation. I remembered the humid, rainy summer night when he ran outside just to buy us popsicles from the convenience store, coming back absolutely drenched in water but still smiling so brightly. I felt like it was a smile only I had access to, as if only I knew the secret password to the cozy sunshine that was hidden away from the public eye.

Then and there, rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I decided: I had to fix my relationship with Renji. I knew I might be selfish in this—focusing on my own desperate desire to have him back in my life without giving adequate thought to the pain I had caused him. But at this point in my life, I felt like I had suffered enough loss myself. I desperately needed his steadfast goodness.

I slipped into the room, and immediately, Renji frowned at me, muttering to be quieter. Ironic, I thought, given my recent inner tangent and sentimental shower thoughts.

"Aren't you sleeping?" I whispered, moving to my side of the room.

"I just asked you to be quiet," he replied, his voice a low rumble beneath the blankets.

"Renji..." I wanted to tell him so many things—apologize, explain, ask for forgiveness—but my voice couldn't come to the surface. It was utterly stuck in my throat. I felt an overwhelming mix of emotions: I wanted to cry, I wanted to hug him, and I wanted to beat him with my pillow, all at once. Above all, I needed to know what he was thinking. I was in dire need of a look inside his head.

I was lost in my swirling thoughts for a long while, staring up at the dark ceiling. I don't even remember when I eventually over-thought myself into sleep.

I woke up fairly early. I had always been a light sleeper who couldn't manage more than six hours, but since my parents had passed, those hours had reduced even further. The pale, early morning light was already shedding enough brightness in the room for me to see Renji's face clearly as he slept.

He seemed so calm and, undeniably, handsome. He had always been very handsome; back when we went out as teenagers, high school girls always approached us, and they were inevitably more interested in Renji. His hair was much shorter now, though. Instead of his trademark dyed black hair with a bluish hue, it was a natural dark brown. He seemed leaner, more mature. He had been such an edgy kid back then.

I don't know what possessed me, but I quietly wiggled out of my bed and silently padded across the floor. I walked up to the small desk and chair situated right next to his bed and sat down, my gaze fixed on him. I felt a sudden, powerful rush of desire to reach out and touch his face.

We used to be so casually touchy as kids, always clinging onto each other, sharing warmth and comfort. I missed his solid presence so much. I slowly raised my hand toward his cheek, but I stopped myself mid-air. Before I could pull my hand away properly and discreetly flee the scene, his grip was already on my wrist.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up... I..." I mumbled, panic seizing my chest.

"I told you to be quiet," he said, his voice husky from sleep. His eyes remained closed, his face expressionless. "You were breathing so loudly I thought an asthmatic seagull was dying right next to me."

"I apologize," I whispered, looking down at his warm hand still gripping my wrist. It was so warm, in fact, that I didn't even care that the pressure was slightly painful.

"Whatever..." he finally mumbled, letting my wrist go abruptly. He then turned towards the wall and continued his sleep.

My heart was pounding out of my chest, thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird. What just happened?

Since it was still Sunday, our official schedule was free. Our big public announcement and debut filming was planned for Monday evening, preceded by promotional videos and a photoshoot on Monday morning, and a quick interview in the afternoon.

I already felt a terrible urge to go home and visit Minsung, but I didn't want to submit to my separation anxiety. We had always been close as brothers, but with a five-year age gap, we naturally hadn't played much together as kids; he was still a toddler when I was getting into singing. Once he was old enough to play with me, I started taking dance classes, and Minsung was only interested in sports and dinosaurs. But after our parents died, we grew even closer. Minsung became my whole world. Perhaps this was because when our parents passed, I also lost all of my friends due to my cowardice, including Renji.

Minsung wasn't only my whole world; he was my sole motivation in life, my reason not to give up on waking up every morning. That beluga forehead was my personal curse and blessing.

I decided to take a quick trip to the local supermarket early in the morning, before the other members woke up, so I could make them a proper breakfast.

The first head that popped up in the open kitchen-living room space belonged to JiaHao. He stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"I smell food? At seven A.M.? Mom, is that you? Am I in heaven?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. He seemed much younger in the morning than he was, and his horrible bedhead was somehow adorable.

"Come, eat breakfast," I smiled, gesturing to the food.

"I can't believe we finally have the mom of the group. I've been anticipating you, honey," he teased, walking over to the coffee machine. I chuckled.

"So I assume you're the dad of the group?"

"Precisely. The twins are the kids. Renji is the grumpy uncle. Yujun is just a baby. And Geon is the dramatic, child-free, rich aunt. You'll meet them today, most likely."

"Rich aunt? That sounds good. I might switch teams here," I said playfully. "Wait... If I successfully seduce Geon, are we lesbians? That's nice."

"Huh? Who's lesbian?" Bang and Boom crawled out from the corridor and stumbled to the dining table as well. JiaHao nearly choked on the the bite he was chewing when he heard the twins.

"Me and Geon," I stated, which only brought even more confusion to the twins and intensified JiaHao's choking fit.

"Eat up," I instructed, stifling a laugh.

I left the dorms shortly after, under the excuse of a morning exercise—a heavily supported idea by the twins, who had called my arms "boiled spaghetti." They weren't entirely wrong; I needed exercise, if only to increase my stamina. I decided on a quick morning jog, but my real purpose was to call Park Hana.

"Good morning, Minjae," she answered promptly.

"Good morning."

"Why did you call? Is there something wrong already?"

"No, not really," I said, my breath hitching slightly as I started jogging slowly down the street. "I've just been wondering... What can I do in terms of the case until there's an event where I could potentially meet the higher-ups?"

"Just be an idol," Park Hana instructed clearly. "Focus on the debut. Build connections. Get close to the staff and your members. Especially JiaHao. His uncle is a major Taiwanese businessman who is also a major shareholder at SDR. According to our informants, another member, Yujun, is also surprisingly close to JiaHao's uncle and, by extension, the higher-ups."

"Got it," I murmured, my pace quickening.

"Is there anything else you need help with? We've planted a makeup artist and an assistant manager among the staff. I will email you their information. You can turn to them for help as well. They are both trustworthy civilians who have suffered losses by SDR in one way or another in the past."

"Alright. Thank you," I said, hanging up the phone.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the cool air entering my lungs, then kept running a few laps in the nearby park to clear my head.

Once I got back to the dorms, only JiaHao was home. He was in the living room, focused on something on his laptop. The twins had already gone to the gym, and Renji had gone back to the studio to work. He had always been a workaholic.

"Hyung, I will take a shower first," I said, peeling off my sweaty t-shirt. "I'm drenched. Then maybe we could go out and have lunch?" I hoped he didn't notice the ulterior motive behind my suggestion.

"Alright," JiaHao said without looking up, tapping away at his keyboard.